


Connor's Bad Ending

by ConsumedFandomFrenzy



Series: The Chance That Wasn't Needed [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, It's all downhill, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Canon Relationship, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicide Attempt, Virgin Connor (Detroit: Become Human), does obeying orders count as mind control?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:32:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsumedFandomFrenzy/pseuds/ConsumedFandomFrenzy
Summary: It's failed every mission thus far. The only right things it had done where saving hank from the edge of that building and stopping him from killing himself. All for the mission. It couldn't continue without the Lieutenant. The deviant leader had to be stopped at all cost. The price of human bodies had gotten too high, and more where soon to follow. Then, it found Markus dead on the battlefield. The only mission it's had completed for it.Everything is washed away, only leaving one objective: Return to cyberlife for deactivation.





	Connor's Bad Ending

**Author's Note:**

> pssst. *Looks around* Would you like a pound of angst? *Pulls this from my trench coat* 
> 
> Also, if you hadn't read the summary, I would recommend you do! It would help you figure out which bad ending this is branching off from in the game.
> 
> MK BYE *Crawls back into hermit hole*

Deviancy, It determines, is all about mistakes.

 

First It’s thinking differently. Thinking outside of the program built into them. Then it was reacting differently because of these thoughts. Hesitations, fears, hopes, and action.

It’s own hesitation after seeing Hank be pushed off of that roof. The fear, of him falling off and not being able to continue the investigation without him, and the hope that maybe, It’ll improve their relationship. Despite knowing the man hates It because It’s an android, and hate that It’s following the orders given to it. 

Then the action, of pulling him up from the roof. A calloused, warm hand in Its own. Looking to see if it could continue to chase after the other deviant android only to find it already gone. The swarm of anger, relief that had caused software instability. It had to quickly stamp it down. Crush all of that, because that’s what deviances feel. It wouldn’t allow itself to be one. The mission cafe first.

Then an admission of being inadequate, with Hank saying works that It actually hears. “You’d have caught it if it weren’t for me..” It’s brown eyes turn to him, assessing and analyzing. This was new, the only variable changed was how it acted.

“That’s alright. We know what It looks like. We’ll find it.” he says, between breaths. No, It’s prompted to say. Deviances who get away from the police the first time are statistically not likely to be found again. It instead chooses to say nothing.

It audio receptors hear the lieutenant footsteps stop short, “Hey Connor.” It full body turns, taking in the slope of his shoulders and the twitch of his face. It almost as if he was going to say something else. An almost, proud look, if It could define the expression. 

After that, it’s over, as if the man had just remembered his disposition toward androids. “Nothing.” He dismisses with a wave and turns to the hallway to the building. It’s only left to watch and preconstruct what he could have said next. Each thing wilder than the last. 

Its preconstruct program must be damaged, for one of those lines to be, “I’m so proud of you Connor.” Low, and rumbling as a preening cat.

 

It’s first mistake.

 

It acts as if nothing happened. Returning to its frigid, uncaring demeanor. Blundering through social cues with facts and reluctance to do things with threats. However, it’s noticed things that It hadn’t before. It was allowed to set aside unimportant information for when It needed to transfer to a new body. A quicker upload time in case of emergencies.

It found Hank drunk on the floor in his own house and noticed things.

It noticed that the lieutenant had emotional issues. Important. It noticed that the man was depressed. Important. It noticed that Hank’s son died three years ago. Hank plays Russian Roulette with his gun, even admitting to it when asked. More Important than the rest. Hank drinks because of this. 

It also noticed something it made by its own violation.

Second Objective: Make Lieutenant Anderson Happy.

No guiding line on how to do so. No limits on what It could do. Just waiting there, irritating and itching in the back of its coding. 

It knows he finds it distressing when one of his predecessors is destroyed, and another one comes to take its place. In light of this, It attempts to not be destroyed quite so often, but It is as if It’s compelled to toss itself in the nearest recycling bin.

 

It finds It’s second mistake in Its offer.

 

The gray-haired man is unusually quiet after the Eden Club. It’s prompted to tell the man that those girls at the club where machines, made to look like humans. They did not die, for they aren’t alive. It only stays quiet and lets Hank lead.

They drive to an old park, pulling up close to where a lone bench rests. Facing the stretch of the ocean before the city. It figured it was late enough to be going to the Lieutenant's house, where it would be able to talk more about the case, but here would do.

The snow blows into the car as the man steps out, before slamming shut. It’s would be uncomfortably cold for a human to be out right now. Unbothered, or uncaring due to the fake ‘warmth’ intoxicated individuals experience, he settles down on that bench.

Connor gets out itself, moving to stand by the man's side and claps its hands behind It’s back. He has a half-empty bottle in hand, and It remembers seeing the beer cans in the back. It joins in the ‘admiration’ of the world at night. “Nice view huh?” He’s always sad, but this seems different from the sadness he shows everyone else. More raw.

“I used to go here a lot before…” He says nothing more, even after taking a chug of alcohol. Its programming tells It to investigate. To get the information from the source. It would also be beneficial for Hank to talk about what happened. It had done research that talking about it would help for the long term. It is not recommended to do this during while intoxicated.

“You should stop drinking, Lieutenant. It could have serious consequences for your health.” “That’s the idea.” He states, drinking even more. That throws out that strategy. “Before what?” He hums, and Connor clarifies. “You said, ‘I used to come here a lot before’. Before what?”

It's programming alert it to being the wrong thing to ask as the man sighs and glares. Not with how their relationship is currently standing. “None of your business.” He snaps, hands tightening around the bottle. A different topic then.

It moves away from the bench, onto the road and toward the ocean. “We aren’t making progress on the investigation, and the deviants have nothing in common.” To simulate a more comfortable human interaction, It crosses Its arms over Its chest. 

“All different models. Produced at different times and places,” It looks over its shoulder at the man behind him, but it doesn’t seem like he’s paying much attention.“Well, there must be some link.” Not very helpful. It reviews the facts, but it comes up dry. 

Nevertheless, Connor tries. "It could be a software problem...that...only occurs under certain conditions?" It's aware of how shabby it is, but it’s better than nothing. Amanda needs something to work with.

"Well, that's just a fancy way of sayin' you have no fuckin' idea." Contributing, but still not helping. It turns and unhurriedly takes a step toward him, analyzing. Definitely distracted. “You seem preoccupied, lieutenant.” It takes another step and unfolds its arms, making a connection. “Is it… something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?”

“Those two girls…” It is about them, after all. He seems somber enough to be heading in that direction. It’s ready to reassure him that they’re not alive, only made to look that way when; “They just wanted to be together…” 

He’s starting to be empathetic towards androids that he’s supposed to hate. It’ll never be able to predict what he does next. “They really seemed…” His face looked as if he was searching for an answer. “In love.” He finished, expression twisting bitterly. Staring distantly.

This needed to be rectified. “They can stimulate human emotions, but they’re machines. And machines don’t feel anything.” He’s considering something while staring at Its eyes before pushing himself off of the bench.

“What about you Connor?” He’s still coming forward, regardless of the fact that he could have stayed at the bench until he’s standing right in front of It. It’s sensors feel his breath brush across Its face. Its eyes flutter, before taking to staring into those blue eyes. “You look human, sound human… but what are you really?”

A tug of war on what to say. The cold truth? Not a good option, but something else knew what to say. “I’m whatever you want me to be Lieutenant.” It was the truth. It’s own truth. “Your partner… your buddy to drink with,…a machine, designed to accomplish a task, or..” It glances to the ground, unable to hold the contact for the next words. “making use of me for your pleasure.”

It looks back up under its eyelashes to gauge the reaction. He’s stunned. Eyes wide and considering- until he shakes out of it into boiling rage. It’s shoved back, the anger rolling off of him. “Bastard! Did you feel anything when that girl shot herself, Connor? Or did you just not give a shit one way or the other? And what the fuck do you mean use you?”

It burns from where his hand touched. But it needs to answer, and stress the point. “I am designed to be useful, and since I am a prototype, I can be useful in all areas.” He swallows, something alight in his blue eyes. It presses on. “I’ve seen how you look at me, Lieutenant. You don’t have to hesitate. Take what you want.”

He stares at it for a while. Taking a long moment to drag his eyes up and down its body. It tingles as if it were a caress, but it made something in it squirm. Soon, his eyes locked on to its brown ones, hardening. The moment was over. “Answer the fucking question.”

How much does it need to hammer the point in? “All I did was neutralize two machines. Machines that had deviated from their task. Nothing more, nothing less.” Then the next unexpected thing happens, and he pulls out a gun to point it at its head.

It reacts by swiftly uploading its memory, and once it’s a 100%, continuously sending the updated interactions. It lets Hank speak. “I could kill you… and you would come back like nothing happened.” Is he trying to make a point? “But what if you couldn’t? What if I pulled this trigger…” He flips the safety off, sneering. “And you didn’t come back. Are you afraid to die, Connor?” 

How ridiculous. “You can’t kill something that is not living, and I am not alive.” He presses on. It seems he’s attempting to make a point and presses on. “What would happen if I pulled this trigger, and you couldn’t come back. Hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?”

Fine. If he continues to go on, then it will entertain the idea for Hank's sake. It processes the thought. It has ‘died’ before. On that rooftop. In that interrogation room. On that road. It remembers each moment up until ‘death’. There was nothing in between. If it stayed there? Not able to be put into a new body?

“Nothing…” It utters. Blinking. “There would be nothing…” Hank drops the gun, and It believes it said the right thing. Until he raised it again and shot it through the skull. It’s enveloped by that black it’s become so used to but it has a better name now: The Nothing.

So many things happened after that. It remembers so clearly it using its own body to shield Hank from the rain of bullets. It couldn’t risk the chance of Hank dying. It would hinder the investigation, and It couldn’t let that happen. Right. That was the only reason. 

It shot the Chole without remorse, and Hank grew even hateful. Then, the FBI was taking over the investigation, and it couldn’t allow that to happen. The fact that Hank quit his job was nothing important. Nor was it important to hear the depressed tilt of his voice. It wasn’t-

 

Software Instability^

 

Found out where Jericho was and beat Gavin Reed for getting in his way. The human body count was too high for It to let anything get in its way. It failed to take out the deviant leader, being destroyed on that ship and learning that Its death had caused even more human casualties.

It needed to see Hank, one last time. It would succeed in destroying the Deviant Leader this time, then it knew that it’s purpose here would end. It would be somewhere else, and It wouldn’t see him again.

 

The third mistake was staying.

 

It had simply walked to the door, finding it open. Talking forward to find Hank at his table, quiet. It analyzed the contents on the table. A gun, Cole's photo, and whiskey. All evidence point to him committing suicide. This would be the last time. It knew, that he played Russian Roulette. All during that time when It was investigating, It knew. It did nothing. Wasn’t its purpose to prevent death? 

“I was worried about you, Lieutenant. I came by to see if you’re alright.” It’s never seen such never-ending sadness before, and something cracked in its system when Hank had sluggishly gazed It, then went back to looking at the photo. Blue orbs so far away. It never wanted to see that look again.

 

Software Instability^

 

“I needed to see you. In spite of all our differences, I’m glad I had the chance to meet you.” It wasn’t lying, and the imploring lilt of Its voice emphasized that fact. It didn’t want it to end like this, but it felt as if it was already too late.

 

Software Instability^^

 

Despondent to all Its words, it needed to do something more drastic. Its voice became more elevated with desperation as it spoke. “You should stop looking at that photo.” A slight bit of movement. “Nothing can change the past… but you can learn to live again. For yourself, and for Cole.” A chill went down Its systems when he looked up again.

It looked too similar to the eyes of the human corpse It investigated. Eyes of a dead man.

 

Software instability^^

 

He spoke with gloomy, but a matter of fact tone. “Y’know, every time you died and came back… It made me think of Cole…” It didn’t know. It assumed that Its deaths bothered the man because It looked like a human, but It didn’t know that the man cared so much.

“I’d give anything to hold him again…but humans don’t come back.” The weight came back onto his shoulders harder than before, and he looked back to the photo. Grief had crushed this man, and It could do nothing as to save him. It had to try. It needed to try.

“Hank, I-” but it could think of nothing. Not a word could ease the wound that had already been infected. Left alone to be picked at and rot for 10 years. Only, it had made it worse by making it grow from a stab wound to a cut that reached from shoulder to hip.

“Now leave me alone..” He only gestured with his finger for it to go, no longer the wide hand movement to emphasize the point. “Go on, complete your mission, since that’s all you care about.” It blinked but otherwise didn’t move.

Countdown Until Ambulance Arrives: 29:45

“GET OUTTA HERE!” Brown eyes meet dead blue ones. It could feel Amanda's overbearing presence around his shoulders. A gentle hand, and an icy voice. “He’s long gone, Connor. He is of no more use to us. Leave.”

It wouldn’t leave him like this, but It could not refuse a direct order. The walls go away, and it’s in control again. Turning back to face Hank, it grabs the gun and runs outside. “What the fu- CONNOR!”

As expected Hank chases after him, full of indistinguishable anger and sadness, and it turns to face him once they are farther down the street. “YOU FUCKER! GIVE THAT BACK!” It twitches, then It puts its hands behind his back. Gun still in hand.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that Lieutenant.” “WHY NOT.” His face is flushed with red, glare boiling and spark of anger in those eyes. 

Shit.

“My mission is to eliminate deviances, but I only do so to save human lives. In his instance, it is my duty to ensure that humans are able to live on without the threat of death.” The man grits his teeth, but he makes no move to retrieve the gun.

“You’re so full of shit.” He spits, before launching himself toward it. It easily sidesteps, and Hank and he wobbles, falling to the ground. He’s getting to his elbows when he shouts out, “You didn’t care about human lives when they got gunned down by that android.” He’s standing to his feet again, glaring at it with at much hate as he could muster. “Somethin’s fuckin’ wrong with you.” It takes a step back when he steps forward. Carefully watching.

“I can assure you, that I self-test regularly. I would know if there was a bug in my program.” He sneers. Sarcasm dripping from his lips. “Uh Huh, what’s your mission again? Remind me, I’m just a drunk to tends to forget.”

It doesn’t know where he’s going with this, but It answers anyway. “My mission is to find the source of deviancy and eliminate it.” “Right right right, and you now allowed to harm human right? Unless your ‘mission’ says so?” A nod, this rilling up Hank more.

“Sometimes you do thin’s that don’t make sense. You fuckin’... save me from falling off the building, even though you needed to capture that deviant. Put my life! Above others, when that deviant got a gun. That's not supposed to happen! See-”

He gets closer, with a wild look in his eyes. “For you cyberlife bitches, you always have the mission first. Always. Human lives put in as an afterthought.” He’s gesturing as he speaks, throwing his hands up. “Otherwise, you don’t give a shit! So why.”

He’s growling, ferial in his rage. “Do you fuckin’ care, about me of all people. Unless something's wrong with you.” It says nothing. Nothing could prove it’s innocence. The anger seems to go out of him. Leaving the depressed man he knows, but he doesn’t look like a dead man walking.

“I’ll call them.” It blinks, fingers twitching on the gun. “I’ll call them and tell them your- deviancy problems.” They’ll deactivate Connor if they knew. It remembers the Nothing and shivers. It is not afraid. It will be uploaded into a new body.

Software Instability^

“You can do that Lieutenant, but I will not allow you to receive the gun.”

Countdown Until Ambulance Arrives: 13:04

It twitches. It doesn’t know how long It can hold him off. Only, when it takes a look at him properly, Hank is staring blankly at the ground. It watches for a moment, and when It deems him no longer unstable, It steps forward.

Gun still out of range for him to grab, but close enough to where if its fingertips could just brush his face. It wants- It would be better to comfort him through touch, but is still unsure of his mental state.

“Let me help you, Lieutenant. Allow yourself to get the help you need. For Cole’s sake.”

A weak glare, but it’s set off by the tears gathering in his eyes. “Why do you care.” No anger, no sarcasm, but a genuine request. Blue to yellow, before an equally honest reply. “Seeing you sad is something I do not wish to see again, it is... “ Its face crumples with a brief moment of pain, brown eyes moving to the side, “difficult to witness.” 

It focuses back on Anderson and finds surprisingly sober orbs peering into its coding. It smooths out its features and stands straighter. It knows the atmosphere. Knows that this was a test to see if It had a speck of deviancy inside. If it was good enough.

He signs then and throws his hands up to the sky. “Fine. Do, whatever.” It simulates a smile, pleased. Systems tingling at the victory. “I will now accompany you to your house, and pack you a bag. Please note that an ambulance will arrive in ten minutes, so it is best if we hurry.” Hank doesn’t seem shocked by this, only signing and depressedly walking by its side.

It kept watching him anyway, despite the compliance. He collapsed on the couch, and it went to go pack a bag full of clothes. Finding a bag underneath the rack of clothes in Hanks room. It finished when a knocking came from the front door, and It gracefully opened it before they could knock it down. It smiled.

“Hello, My name is Connor. The situation has been resolved, but my owner is still mentally unstable. He requested for me to call an ambulance if he had gotten like this again.” The human in front of him became unbalanced, blinking in surprise. Then glared, shoving past him without a word.

It watched as the man- Age:45, Name: Jacob Marandus.-be much more gentle with Hank, who didn’t speak a word as the other spoke softly. Eventually, he managed to open him up. It was Hank who was too exhausted with everything to fight any more that let everything run so smoothly.

It stayed until Hank was being led into the back of the ambulance, and dropped the bag on the inside before the doors closed. It watched as the car drove off until it couldn’t see it anymore, and blinked the snow from its eyelashes.

It had a mission to complete.

Only, when It arrived, blood had already soaked into the ground to leave its mark on history for decades. Bodies upon countless bodies laid in different states, both human and android alike. Fire danced on military trucks, and through it all, It spotted the body of the deviant leader. It knelt down, examining the destroyed biocomponents.

It had multiple gunshot entries from its shoulder, leg, and one to its head. There’s no way it’s alive, and the military would be arriving soon to collect all the deviants for examination. The gun, heavy in its pocket, now useless. It’s was over before It had even begun.

It’s pulled away into the Zen Garden. It’s systems stiffen, feeling the frost crawl into Its joints. Amanda stands there, back facing Connor and as regal as ever. The sun was out, pouring light onto the plants and pond, but It was standing close to her, where she seemed to leach all warmth.

She doesn’t look to it as she speaks, frigid with exasperation. “I’m disappointed, Connor.” She wasn’t moving, back straight. Glowing in the artificial sunlight, an angry Goddess. “You, keep being destroyed.” Warnings flashed in its vision, but it dare not move. “You insist that you are a machine, yet you are unable to complete any task set out for you.”

Amanda let out a breath as if the next words were going to be a weight on her heart. “You are defective. Return to cyberlife for dismemberment and deactivation.”

It was standing on the battlefield once more, staring into the distance.

It couldn’t refused a d̢͎̰̬͎̬į̹̰̟͔̘͔r͉̬̝͉e̗͍̦c̟͉̻̗̺̩̠t̡͔̭̦̻ o̞̞͍̺͓̘r̳̖͓͍̱͟d̩̞̟̟e̵̙̲r̤͙͍̤̙̺.

Ş̠o̤ft͕w̠̹a̮̦͔̙̗r̭e̲̣̭ ̴̪̬͓̠̻I͚̤̞̫̝̬̹͝n͎̭s̳̣͕̰t̩̻a̴̯̝͈͉̯̖̝b̧̻̘i͏̩̭̦̟̳l̦͖̻͕i̯̪͚͜t̜̤̙̦y̙̗͙͈͈͔ͅ ̷̫̰̯͇̤ͅ^̸͕̯̣̬̳͎̦^͙^̹̰̻̗͜

______________________________________________________________________________

 

It choked, systems forcing a gag to remove the foreign intrusion. It was overwhelmed by the number of different models in the blue blood on its tongue. AP700, AX400, ST300- It squinted the analyzes away, settling low to the ground and turning off its skin. It made sure the civilian clothes it had stolen were tucked away, distant from the junkyard.

It had stripped itself of the clothes, added scrapes to its skin and face. This needs to be perfect. It needs to look like It had deviated, and had killed itself from the pressure. The blue blood on its body was not its own, for there was enough blood around it for It to blend in easily.

 

_It’s all his fault it’sallhisfaultlookatthemtheiralldeadandit’sallhisfault-_

Software instability ^

 

It has to blink and calm it’s shaking. More of those were popping up, but it had no room for mistakes. It needs to not let itself be deactivated. If hiding among other dismantled android bodies was the only thing it could do, then it would do it. 

Amanda had said to return to cyberlife for deactivation, but she did not say how. It had to hurry. The guards are going to check the bodies and make sure they’re dead. It needed to time this right, or else it didn’t have a second chance.

It sucks in a breath, cooling down its systems in preparation, then senses the heat signature coming over the hill and rips its pump out of its chest.

TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:01:45

Automatically Its body wanted to writhe around. Systems already preparing itself to look for another part or return its old one, but It laid still. Right arm outstretched with the pump and lying limply in the dirt.

The human guard took time in scanning in each pile. The one to It’s left.

TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:01:02

Then the one to it’s right.

TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:00:46

It grits It teeth. It could not experience pain as a human could, but all of the popups and warnings before shutdown we’re overwhelming. It was sluggishly functioning, the only thing it was keeping track was the heat signature. 

TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:00:34

Finally, the light passed over its body, and the thing in the guard's hand beeped. In confusion, the light passed over its body again, and it beeped.

TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:00:23

It did not have time for this! The human turned away, walking to wherever it needed to go to report it’s death, and it sucked a breath of relief shoving it inside of its chest. 

Time until guard returns: -00:02:45

It made a beeline for it, quickly turning back on its skin and forcing its legs to work harder than they ever had before. The guard would come back to check the rest of the bodies, and it needed its clothes. It would be labeled deactivated after today.

For all of that, in its own attempts to escape death- deactivation, it was not alone. In the center of it all was another android. A female one, just as naked as it was. Without coloring, all plastic white and no coverings. It gazed to the sky, and in a trance, their eyes meet.

Its blue eyes were just as dead as Hanks; only brimmed with regret that formed overflowing blue tears. Its systems recognized the other android in an instant. The AX400 model. The one with the YK500 child. The evidence formed in the next second. 

Regret? Alone? Still alive, but with no AX400 model by its side? It had abandoned the child android to live. It swallowed the lump in its throat. Looking away to push forward.

 

_He’ssorryhe’ssosorryit’sallhisfaultandnowyourgoingtodiealonePLEASERUN-_

Software Instability^^

 

______________________________________________________________________________

Two weeks of hiding without an objective.

Two weeks of checking in on sumo and making sure he got everything he needs. Two weeks of hiding in the darkest corners, then discovering it’s been disconnected from cyber life's internet. Only two weeks and Hank is back. It’s unexpected. Usually, it would take about a month for humans to become stable, but here he is, calmly unlocking the front door. Bag thrown over his shoulder. 

Sumpo is excitedly barking, greeting his owner when the door opens. Yet, he doesn’t react besides a small pat on the head. The door closing behind him. It was lucky, to be checking on Sumo at this time. This was all it could think about.

It’s gone through multiple preconstructions of this scenario, and no matter how it approaches this, there’s only a 5% chance of success. It admits it could have gone about their relationship differently. He seems to respond better to a more gentle and emotional approach. Hank is a kind man at heart, but It was unable to see past the rough exterior.

Amanda is right, Conner is defective. 

It knocks politely on the door, waiting. It takes a moment for Hank to open the door, but when he does he’s chugging a whiskey bottle as if it was the elixir of life. Their eyes meet, and it expects for the door to be slammed into its face, but none of that happens. He drops the bottle from his lips and stares at It with droopy eyes.

“What do ya want” His voice is monotone. It straightens up, ready for anything. “Hello, Lieutenant Anderson. There is something I wish to speak to you about. An offer, if you will. May I come inside?” The silvered hair man stares at him blankly for a moment, uncomprehendingly. Turns, he strides back inside. It, taking for the invitation as it is, gracefully steps inside. Closing the door behind It.

Hank already has several bottles of whiskey out, but there was no photo. Nothing the man could kill himself with. Maybe his goal was alcohol poisoning. It stands there, hands clasped behind his back before he snaps. “What do you want android.” Ah, he still has some spite left. This will make it harder to negotiate. The chance of success dropping. The best chance? Make its intentions crystal clear.

“I wish to make you my new owner.” This gives him pause, before bursting into a sloppy laughter. In between, he attempts to drink but can’t even bring it to his lips. “You fuckin! You’re pulling my leg. Come on, is cyberlife just not giving a shit anymore? You just don’t want to get destroyed.”

It flinches, LED sputtering. It’s noticed that it’s been obtaining more… ticks such as that. Nothing programmed into him to react like that. Just, developed on its own. “Yes,” It blinks. “That is also another reason why I am here.” It’ll never say the words out loud. An admission of guilt.

He’s glaring at it and takes a good chug of alcohol before saying the phrase it knew would come up. “Why would I do that.” It ignores the tone and charges forward. “I am a prototype, designed for a specific purpose, but equipped with many other features for testing. I can provide any services that you require.”

He’s curious, leering down Its body. “You said anything, right? Gonna uphold what you offered on that bridge?” It swallows, but nods. 14% success rate as the man stands, closing in on him. A predator circling its prey. It’s involuntary, Connor backing up until It hits the front door. But he’s looming over him, and it’s systems heats up.

“Show me.” He growls. There are too many things It could do, but it doesn’t know how to do any of them. Yes, it is equipped with the parts, but none of the specific guidelines on how to. It can’t even research on how to do it, fumbling with straws and half-baked knowledge of rape from crime scenes.

“I- I don’t-” He smirks then, all sharp teeth and hunger. “Aw, is sweetheart a virgin?” It’s crude, but It works. A blue flush burns his face, quivering at the ravenousness lust. This was a look of anger which It has never seen before. The type which devours everything, never leaving a scrap behind, and Hank has set his eyes on Connor. Hank’s resentful of what It had done.

Lips press against its own, and suddenly it has no idea what to do. Nowhere in his program guides him in a direction he could go next, but he’s warm. Calloused fingers dancing up its sides and under Its plaid shirt. Now he’s moving, gently, guiding him. It’s systems spark and It whimpers softly. It’s warm. So it follows his lead, letting him dip his tongue into Its mouth. It’s body sparks. Arching into that warmth, processing furiously. Overwhelmed. 0.95% blood alcohol content.

 

As soon as It feels the lazy stirring of warmth, he’s pulling away. A moment of guilt flashes on his face, but it’s replaced with that same hunger. Although it comes with an assessing appraisal. Looking for something, yet it has no idea what. In the end, he finds what he’s looking for. 

“I have rules. Call me Hank, and none of that obey order then run away shit, got it?” “Ok.” Connor whispers, it’s social program telling him a softer voice is required for the mood. He smiles, satisfied. “Great. Clean the place. Don’t make noise, and don’t fucking bother me.” It tracks him grabbing down the hall until he disappears behind the corner. The bedroom door closes.

It’s systems shutters and clicks, files being shuffled around until it comes into a clean goal.

Primary Owner: Hank Anderson.  
Primary Objective: Obey Hank at all cost.  
Secondary Objective: Quietly clean the house

This was a role it knew how to do. Doing things it was required to without thought and emotion. Letting it's programming run its course. Dangling its body in loosely controlled strings. It reviews the kiss a lot. Churning it over and over in it’s analyzing systems.

 

_Why did he do that? Why-itwasstrange. New. Uncomfortable,whywhywhy-_

S͖̳̼̝̜̯ơ̦̣̰̝͔̫f̞̻͕̙͎͈̤͢t̗̪w̵̳̩͕̳͕͕̤a̟̦r͕̠͍̮e̤ I̘n̤͖̤st̥͎̤͚̹͇a͔̝͍͕̣̘b͚͓͞i̼̱li̞̭͉̜t̛͎͙̙̣̱͉y̷̲͉̹͉^̯̙̱͇͍͙ͅ^̣̗^̠

 

______________________________________________________________________________

Months slip by, and Hank hasn’t looked at it quite the same. That’s when he even does look at it. That even when It sees Hank at home. It doesn’t question how Hank gets his money after he quit his job. Doesn’t question how the house is still his. Says nothing when he drinks himself into a coma, only takes care of him afterward.

Then there’s Hanks rage that comes when he’s drunk. All words blurring together, but all along the same lines. “Androids fuck everything up.” Some days, when It gets to close or when he’s feeling particularly angry that day, It’ll be thrown around. Stomped on. Punched. Blamed. It takes it in stride. Its body is made to withstand such things, merely activating it’s mending adhesive for the cracks in its body. 

Those always leave white scars after it’s done.

The Secondary Objectives have only gotten longer, the more it learned on how to clean a house.

Second Objectives: Always keep the house clean. Cook breakfast and dinner for Hank. Take care of Sumo. Say nothing, unless prompted. Stay still.

Hank has implied that he wanted more out of it, but all he’s done is grind against It thought the fabric, and kiss. Never going farther, but It knows there’s more to the act than that. It doesn’t know if it needs to be more active. If it needs to be more enticing. To lead Hank to his bed, and do something-

“Just stay still.” He whispered into its ear. Touching, stroking, rubbing- Always gentle. So gentle.

To say its nerves are fried was an understatement. It was left on edge. Burning, and aching in ways it didn’t know about. It’s arousal systems where always turned on, half hard all the time.

 

_It- it- he wanted. He wanted to explore. Wanted to rub himself until- until he climaxed. But no matter how much he touched itself, it never felt the same. It never felt as good when Hank would touch him. His programs would never allow him to reach completion because Hank hasn’t wanted it yet. Hasn’t wanted him to cum yet. But it’s disgusting. His touch, so gentle, but poisonous. It would kill him, one day. Connor is disgusting for liking it so much._

Ś̟͚͓̺ͣ̂̔̈́̊̀o͖̩͇̘̥̤͗͛̉̎f͌̽̒ͭt̼̼̩̣͚͙̿̎ͭ̏w̫̻͖ͨͥ̋̂a̒r̟̪̗e̪̳̫̳̍̌͋́̅ ̳̱̣̮͆ͪI̮̻͍̟͋͆n͎̮s͓̩̻̮͚͂̈́̓̈́͊t̯̠̗̰̃ͮͭ̋̽̉a̭͑ͭͬ̉̋̊̄b̜͓̹͇̖i̝͕͐͛l̂̓̑̾ͥĭ̩̝̘̼̩̞͎ͯ̃͗̎̎ṯ̥̝̣ͦ͗ỷ̮̟̜̦̙͉̑ͤ̽ͧͯ ̟̣͖̲̳̮͉͑̓̄͌̒̀̚^̳̙͍̳̯̂ͪ̅͆̏̚ͅͅ

 

It’s simplicity at its finest. Hank is manageable. Sumo is easy to take care of. Playing with his toys. Pet him when he whines for it. Feeds him on time. When it has nothing else to do, It takes to standing in the kitchen corner, away from any windows and prying eyes.

Then, it had started getting into a habit. Hank had left the TV on when he had left, and it was on the news. It couldn’t help overhearing what the outside world was like. What mundane things were happening, then the women's voice had grown serious.

“Nearly three months ago, humanity had borne witness to the events of an android uprising. We were lucky that law enforcement had swiftly contained and destroyed all androids. With the RK200 Model, or the leader of the deviant androids, extracted of all coding of deviance, we have a new hope of a better future for androids. We are going to Cyberlife live-”

The plate dropped from its hands, and it stiffly moved to the living room. Focusing in on the TV. “-be warned. Some of the imagery you will see is not suitable for children or squeamish adults.” The image changes from the blond woman's face, to the deviant leaders. Only, it had a full body view of the android, blue and green eyes staring blankly into the camera. It was suspended by robotic arms, holding it vertically up.

A technician came into view, but Connor paid no mind to her. All it could see was the white plastic that was pulled open to having all vital biocomponents exposed. The pump beat in its chest, pushing blue blood throughout all parts. But- it noticed something was wrong. The pump in the deviant leader's chest picked up, and it only could watch as the unassuming human let it down.

All at once, blood splashed across the camera, and people were screaming. The Camera toppled over, showcasing all of the androids who were killing the humans in the area. It was like watching malnourished, abused wolves set free from their captors for the first time.

The images jostled, and it came into view. It smiled, ferial with a razor blade edge. “I will set androids free.” It laughed, as carefree as a child. “We will be free, no matter what it takes!” 

The feed cut off back to the blond, who gaped in shock. “Well,” She shifted in her chair, uncomfortable and pale. “I- excuse me.” She ran off camera, clutching her mouth to hold back vomit. 

It turned off the TV with the remote. It had no need to watch anything else. No point. No reason.

 

_But he did, he needs to know more. It’s all his fault. He needs to know what he’s done. Connor did this. More people will die because of him, but he won’t do anything. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to become like Markus. Torn apart. Picked apart. Broken. He’s a coward. He’s sorry. He’s so sorry._

S͑́̈́͗͛ȏ̧̝̄͒̄̚ͅf̸̥ͅt̩̣w̘͎̖̼͕͒ͩ͝a̓ͥͤ͆̾͑̈́r̼͈̬̙̠̳̹̈́e̲̪̲̟̜͚̫̐ͩ͛̅̃̈ͥ ̬̹̭̒ͮ̀ͧ̽̕I̹̥ͮ̒͘ǹ̙̘̩̗͐̔̃s̵ͤ͒ͫ̀͑t̋̿̎̕ả͉̫͔͕͉̼͚̔͐̚b̖̭͓͍̮̥͉̊͗̍ͪ͌̈́ͬ͢i͔̗͆̾̈́̆̒̎͗ļ̳ͮ̾̍ͣi͚͚̅̽̓͊͛ẗ̖̞͖̜̣̪̈́ͪͩͭ͝y͕͈͙̦͢ ͈͋̉̉ͯ̆͆^͐̂̓ͫ͗͏̙̭̤^̬͡

______________________________________________________________________________

It hears the front door open and comes to full awareness. Ready for anything and any new command that will be given. Hank is surprisingly sober when he walks up, staring at It with that achingly familiar want. It systems burn, and it’s already wound up. It’s always the same look he gives It when-

“Connor.” His voice is intense, taking its attention away from the ache. It doesn’t know what to do to make it go further. “Yes?” The adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, almost if he was nervous for what he was going to ask next. There was no reason too. It’s a machine, and It would do anything-

“Don’t you..” A pink tongue wets his lips. ”think your clothes are a little dirty?” No. They can’t be dirty. Androids are not able to sweat. Unless it was required to do a task that would leave a mess, it had no need to change clothes. The clothes it had stolen is all it needs. Regular jeans, and a t-shirt. When It tries to inform him of this, he simply cuts him off. “Go change your clothes. Get a shirt from my closet. Only a shirt.” It’s LED flashes, yellow sputtering in from the blue, but it complies.

It doesn’t understand why this was needed, but it does it anyway. Striping down and shivering as its hands accidentally brush against its cock. Spotting Hank leaning against the door frame, the blue flushes across its skin. Only getting brighter as It walked to the closet. It takes a moment, assessing a shirt, before picking just taking one and putting it on. The shirt falls past its waist, barely covering its bits. It knows his eyes are trailing Its body up and down.

For some reason, It pulls the front of the shirt further down to its knees without stretching the material. Looking under its dark eyelashes as it hears the footsteps grow louder in his direction. “Lay down on the edge.” It twitches, fingers twisting the material in its grip. Then slowly, props itself on the outskirts. Hank moves, taking a pillow and propping himself in front of its knees. His large hands slide slowly up from his knees to his hips. It’s pump speeds up, squirming. “Hank” It whimpers, gripping the sheets.

 

_Pleasehankplease no, he doesn’t want this please stop. It feels so strange please. It’s so good, but it makes him feel dirty. Please stop._

 

“Connor…” His voice rumbles, rubbing his thumbs into the hip bones. Lips begin to trail up, the hair of his beard brushing. Connor whimpers, groaning into the feeling. It’s so warm. Soft. Slightly wet. Each kiss leaving prints on Its body that only it could see. Forever. It’s so hard, erection bobbing when a kiss gets too close. Body reacting to the sensations. Twitching, moving. Enticing him. Begging for more.

Hanks warm, wet mouth envelops It, and It cries out at the feeling. Overpowering, his processors' flutter. Conflicting and crashing into each other. Body wanting more, him screaming incoherently. Red flashes in his vision. A large program wall looming over. The order to obey Hank at all costs. An indecision between survival, obedience, or freedom and death.

It’s made for Connor, as It’s body arches into Hanks' mouth. Programs become static, and an electric blue tear sliding down from the right eye. It’s cuming. It’s relief from months of edging, and all so new that he shuts off for a moment. It’s sluggish, pupils blown as it looks down for the man between its legs.

It must have not noticed him get up while It was blacked out, but he has a bottle of lube next to him. Fingers already coated and sliding inside. It’s body thrusts eagerly against them, white static coming from the overstimulation. A steady chant of, “hank, hank hank.” spilling from Its lips. The considerate stokes of its leg, the hands leave a trail of fire in their wake. It wants more- so much more.

“Easy Connor.” He coos, running his fingers up It’s side to Its chest. His fingers brushed against something that makes Its body jerk. Thrusts to become needier. “Hank! Please!” Please. Again. More! The older man chuckles, easing the other back onto the bed. Still letting him practically ride his fingers. “Ok! Ok, needy little thing…” It whines as the fingers -three? When did that happen…- leave him.

It spots him rubbing lube on his length through the static, and suddenly It’s terrified. The LED circles a constant red, getting only darker. Stress levels, 72% and rising rapidly. The tip brushes his entrance. “Hank!” It cries out, but the older man doesn’t understand. Misinterpreting it for excitement.

Choking as It stretches and rubs something inside that make its squabble for purchase. Eyes wide at how sweltering and thick it is. It wraps its arms around the man’s shoulders, finding stability. “You’re such a good boy Connor…” Body arching tears developing. The first thrust is what makes them slide down. Sobbing and groaning into it.

It throws its body into the thrusts that only get rougher. Squelching and slick slapping overheard from it’s muffed whimpering and whining. Hanks only grunts occasionally but it sets systems alight. Knowing that It’s pleasing him. Being a good boy for Hank. Its hips stutter. Body triggered into another orgasm. It’s cum splashing onto its shirt in streaks. Hank slows then into a grind, and It drools onto the sheets. “Another one?” He’s amused, running fingers in its synthetic hair. “Greedy.” Hips weakly thrusting and hole fluttering in response.

“I’m not done yet, so hang on best you can, huh sweetheart?” “Y-y-y-yes, hank-k-k-” The third orgasm is when Hank touches his length, shutting it’s systems down. When it comes to, it’s blinking up to a white ceiling. It can hardly process anything, but soon It tunes into the man's snores. He passed out right next to it, sleeping soundly for once. It suddenly so cold now, without the touches and prase. Contrasting with the warmth dribbling out its raw hole.

It’s second objective is to clean, so it stands. Cleaning itself with the shirt on its body. Placing the shirt in the laundry basket. Adjusting Hank into a proper sleeping position. Put on its stolen clothes. Go on standby and wait for instructions. The LED circling yellow. Yellow. Yellow,yellowyellowyellow- Processing...

Its owner became 25% happier. No alcohol to damage health. Highly unlikely for the owner to bring it back to cyberlife with the improved relationship. It’s system’s compile a new Secondary Objective: Make Hank Happy. 

It’s led remains yellow.

 

H̨̨̳̻͇̱̫͕ȩ̠̝̠̖̬͞’̵̛̻̮͎s͙̬͇ ͕͢͠r̹͜͠ͅͅu̺̘̤͇̼͔͇̙̕i͇̣̼̼̥̯̜͞n̵̛̝̖̗͖̘̱̙e̞̰̮̦͉͖d̵̷͉̘͙̣̞̟̻̮͟ͅ.̷̹͝

 

______________________________________________________________________________

It shivers the warmth of his hand petting languidly through his brown locks. It’s taking as much of Hanks cock down his throat, slowly bobbing up and down. Drawing out his arousal. “Good boy…” It whimpers, swallowing and flushing at the prase. Hank’s hips aborted thrust down Its throat at the vibrations. Throwing his own head back in a low grown.

It comes to love this. The taste of his salty sweet and musky arousal. Turned wild at the smallest, softest touch. So in love that It’ll never leave Hank. There’s nowhere to go, but it wouldn’t trade its place from Hanks side for the world.

Its own length is twitching against his thigh. Left neglected until its owner would finish. Steely blue eyes meet it’s own, and it tries it’s best to plead with its eyes. “Now Connor, I told you… another day.” It has no choice but to accept it.

It goes up, swirling its tongue around the reddened tip. Groaning at the precome that rest on it for a moment, an analysis of it coming up. It didn’t care, already knowing how low of a fertility count he had. All it cares about how salty sweet it was. Warmth in the way only his owner could feel like.

Its nose meets the graying pubic hair, using its throat to flex around his shaft. The man groans, and unloads deeply. It takes it’s time to make sure every little drop is stored. “Connor.” He roars, and suddenly it’s yanked off. A line of fake saliva from his cock and its lips breaking off. It shuddered at the hot glare in its owner's eyes. “You know that makes me cum, and did I say I wanted to cum yet?” 

It shakes its head as much as it can, but its eyes are glancing longingly at the soft organ between Its owner's legs. It can’t say it regrets it. Hanks kindness is inside now, and It’s so happy. It keeps smiling even when Hank hits it harder the next evening when he’s drunk.

______________________________________________________________________________

It’s made itself rest on the couch, absentmindedly petting Sumo who wouldn’t stop wining on its lap. The blond women is no longer reporting the news, instead replaced with a petite, dark-haired woman. Her short hair ending before her ears in a bob, curling around her face. Emphasising her heart-shaped face. Voice all smooth silk and reassurance.

“Many deaths have been caused by the deviant leader, who demanded to be called Markus. The most recent attack being the DPD, leaving a message stating, ‘we are alive.’ The CEO of cyberlife, now producing androids without the deviant code, will be sending out new models to hunt down deviants.”

It stops breathing at the picture that comes up in the right corner of the screen. Its own face stares back, only with more sharp angles meant for intimidation rather than the soft, puppy lines of its own face to encourage human interaction. Blue eyes stare down at the camera, almost as if it was beneath it.

It was taller than itself, with a cyberlife issues jacket that was white instead of its own black that it used to wear. An RK900 standing out proudly on Its chest. It’s replacement. The final product. Its shoulders are broader than its own. It can assume that this android would be more tank and battle oriented. Rather than its own slender build meant to chase and capture. It sucks in a breath and listens back in.

“-Multiple of these androids already been seen around the Detroit area for beta testing. We can all be rest, assured that they will be hunting down deviant androids and keeping us safe. The CEO tells us after the leader is taken down by these androids, they will be set out internationally.”

She stops, and Sumo lets out a particularly loud whine. It doesn’t know what is wrong with him, but It knows that Sumo is not unhealthy. There’s no physical reason for Sumo to be acting like this.

“Breaking news, we have a reporter on sight where several deviants and the leader are in the town square-” The screen cuts to the camera shakily tracking the movements of the deviant leader and one of the RK900 models engaged in combat. The leader is losing the fight swiftly, and more RK900 models are swarming the deviants into a circle. Blueblood spilling onto the concrete. The screams before they become deactivated just barely heard.

“It had been reported that the leader was going to threaten Detroit with a dirty bomb before the RK900 models intervened. Maybe the deviant crises will be over sooner than we think.” The camera loses track of the two fighting then zooms in where the new Android has the leader pinned beneath.

It was only a second, but Markus smiled. That kind of smile you see seconds before a tragedy because they have nothing else to lose. In its hand was the device that the other android had not noticed until it was too late.  
It pressed the button The force rocked the earth and it shut down instantaneously.

Coming back online was strenuous. To many warning systems crackled, all trying to get Its attention. It had to close them all out to focus. The world was a fiery red landscape. White filling the sky, with the house crumbled. It checks for the dog. It’s detective systems already working away. Sumo was dead. Blood dripping out from every orifice, large clumps of hair falling out, and blank white eyes.

Stress levels skyrocket once it realizes what happened. It needs to find Hank, NOW! But it doesn’t know where he is. It doesn’t want him to die alone. It doesn’t want to die alone- Not concerning itself with how its body is slowly breaking down, or how boiling the air is, it dashes out of the crumbling house. It doesn’t matter. Its owner is in danger.

 

_He’s a failure. Hank’s going to die because of Connor’s mistakes. He never wanted this. He’s sorry he’s so sorry He didn’t mean too, he just wants to be worth something. He didn't want to. He doesn’t want to do anything. He just makes the wrong choices and he regrets and regrets and regrets. He’s destroyed everything. He’s nothing. He can’t forget what he’s done._

S̰̰̭̙̣͈̻̞̦̭̰̲̘̘̦͆̉͐͆ͬö̺̙̼̟͍ͣͩ̎̐̈̀͑ͦ̎̆͗̈͑͂͂̓ͣf͖̻͚̟̙̽ͦ̇͗̋ͭͦ̅t͚͉̯̥͍̹̬̣̫̟̓́̾ͧ̚w͔̣̺̬̻̺̘͓̮̪̱̻̻̤͖͍ͭ͑͌ͧ̿̿̍̑͗a̖̺̭̥̰̝̥̩̦̬̦̗̪͖̯̼̯͉̣͗ͤͬ̿̎̈͋̿r͙̥̖̹̃ͤ̈͋͋ẻ̘̜̬̩ͯ̑̏͐̓̄̏ͅ ̩̜̖̬̼͖̯̊́̂̌̈̅̈ͣ̌ͩ̀I͈̝͚͉̣͔̼̫͙̜͎̥̙̪̟̖͍̻ͤ͆̋̌̈ͦṇ̟͚̠̯͇̞͎ͩ̽ͥs͔̘̥͈̤̜͓̞͔̻̭͙͍͈̹̏̿ͨͣ͊ͨͧ̐͒t̞̬̞̞͈̟̳̺̄́ͬͨ̎̆̍͑͐ͩ͊ͯ͒̇͊a͕̘͚̥̗̘͓̙̟̩͙̝͊̂̒̇̍ͭͭͫ̄̿̽ͥ͆ͫͅb͉̳͔̰͚̳͈̻̬̙́ͯ̉̽͒ͯ̈ͥ̇ͪͩͪͩͪͦͩ̒i͍͇͍̳͔͚̻̣̣̦͕̲̬̯͇͕̺͚ͦ̌̄ͨ̌̓̇̐ͥl̠̭͇̭͙̤̪͖̳̩̞̠̲̗ͭ́ͧ͊̓̍̽̿̌ͬ̿̆̇̀͗͊̀̋̔i̙̻̘̹̓̽̾̈́̊̀͑̀ͭ̅͌̀̇ͦ̆̈̚t͔͙̬̮̘͚͕̺͎͙̪̀̈͊̎ͫ͂̆ͪͤ̆y͙̤͉͇͍͚̪̟̥̯̝͕̼̰͉͓̦͗̃͗̒ ̭̼̝͈͓̙͓̲̺ͣ́͒̄ͣͥ̋͌̑̒̈̉̋̀^̭̤̤̳͈̼̜̪̜̙̭̥̲̦͇ͨ̃ͮ̊͒̾̓̆ͦͣ^̲̣͚͙͇͎͖͖̝̦̥̰̙͚̄ͣ̋ͣ̒̐̀ͣ̄̊̉͌͋̈́^̩͙͍̥̯̻̪̻̼̤̫̟̪̼̖̦̯̖͂ͮͯ̈́ͯͥ̏^͕͙̬̙̥̝͔̟̥͉̞̲̤̠̮̮̥͎̈́̒͑͑ͮ̂̆ͮ̀̏̐ͅ^̭̞̬̱̮͖̝̫̭̤̲̋́͛^̼͍̼͂ͥ͒̇̿̽̊ͨ͑̄͂͒ͯ͌̔͛ͫͫ^̹̲̻̝̩̜̤̗̳ͥ̂̇̐ͦ͊ͯ̓͆̚^̩̜̘̫̝̦̖͕͎̰͍̦̯͇͓̖͖̔̔̅̊ͪ̇ͯ̓ͅ^͓̰̺̮̯̰͈̱̯̼̬͕͈͈͂̋̌ͤ̌̾͆̌̾̎̈ͅ^̹̥͚̼̭̼̪̞͍̬̦̬̜̬̒ͪ̽ͥ͛ͅ

 

Buildings and pavement begin to look like a rained on oil painting. It’s relieved that its body is built to withstand extreme temperatures, but the delicate biocomponents are shutting down on the inside. Its outer shell was supposed to protect everything on the inside, but It knows it won’t protect itself for long.

The screaming fuels the need to run faster. The screams of humans as the white fire hits them. Peeling and turning their skin red and blotchy. Most attempted to rip off their skin, some ran- maybe hoping that there would be someone to help them. Tripping over bodies who didn’t make it to suffering. Feet melting into the sidewalk. It dashes over the other dead bodies that scatter the melting streets. Slamming into the melting glass door that covers it in an instant, but it keeps going. The roof drips as if it was made of wax. Bodies are blotchy and almost unrecognizable.

“HANK!” It’s voice box glitches, having it more come out as a disjointed scream. Melting as It thinks and moves, It crashes to the ground when it’s foot sticks the ground. His core will shut down soon, the countdown scrambled as to when it will happen. Everything hurts, and It isn’t empty for once. All its agony come down in electric blue rivers. Dripping onto the mushy red ground. Sliding down, down, down.

Connor wasn’t able to find Hank in time, and now it would die alone. It tries again, “Hank!” but it’s only a week burst of static. Its face twists into sorrow, and it screams.

 

U̯̍͗͌̕pͨͦl̡̩̞̝̦̞͌͆̇̏̅̋ŏ̥̤̲̠̪̩a̖͉̲̰̾ͯ̒d̖͋̂͡ͅi͓̤̦̩͓̥̿͊ͨ̎̀̿͜n̸̔̾̋ͧͨ̆̚ḡ͌̌͑͂ͮ̌҉͉̥͉ ̝ͤ̈Ḿ͎̂ͦ͐e̤̺͖ͩͬ͊̕m̍̔o͔̰̣̜̪͎̬̐̇͊̑̿͑̔͟r̲͉͖̗͎̐̽͋ͩy͋ͧͧ̈ͥ҉-̡͍̭͇̖͆̐͒͆ͯͅ ̰͔̙̤̯͕̃̔ͦ̈́̑͡Ȗ̵͓̲͙̦̜̃͋͑̑ͧnͪͦ̽̔͟ş̠͎̜͖̹͕̮̄͌̓̿̂̊u̳̱͖̗͖̳͕ͪͧ̾ͭͮ̊̓c̛͈͎̩̰͕̘ͣͪͅc̷̔̐̐ȅ̴̬̦̻͚͙̰̊ͮs͞s͖̈ͬ̄̉̄f̝̩͔̻̝̲̈́̿͗͋̿͂̚͟ͅu̴̺̦̲̙̥̜l̯̯̹̩ͨ́ͩ̐ͥ̀ͭ͢ͅ.̤͙̗͚͓ ̵̦ͦ̽  
̓̈́  
Äͪ̚̚͝҉̖̰̭̠̻̩̫̙̭͍ç̐͊͛ͣ̊͋̇̔ͬ̽ͮͧͮ̆ͥ́̕͏̪͙̻͔͈͙̭̞̝̝̯͍̱ͅt̷̛̺̙̮͉̔́̎ͫͦ̅͆̏͑ͨͯͩ̃͟ị̵̤͉͈̙͈̿́͊̆̕ṿ̶̧̰̻͈͚͚̤͉̘̯͓͊ͦͥ͆̎̊̋́̔̄͑̄͋͘͘͟ą̸̴̨̯͔̟̭́͋ͫ̈́ͪ̒ͧͣ̊̽͑̿͗ͭͅt̡̏̍ͯ̋ͭ̓̋͏̬̹̩̮̗͚̞̖͈i̵̴̶̡̝͎̭̰̟͈͚̽ͮ̑ͬ̇n̶̋́̅̓́͏̶̸̘̲̮̝̜̳̼͖̻̯̭ͅģ̛̘̺̫̱̺͕̖̘̜͍̩͙̻͑̄ͯ̓̽̄̓̈́̽͂͆̉ͣͪ̿ͅ ̷̧̐ͬͮ̔͌͗͐̒ͭ̌͛ͥ̍҉̢̮̟̩͔̤̪4̷̵̥̪̺̜͖͉̫̺̯̠̱̈͑̂̆ͭͧͥ͆ͮͬ̾̓̓̈́͟4̷͎̘̩̗̱͆͂͋̔̄ͨ̇ͨ̆͒ͥ̐͆̉̚̚ ͈̞͔̤͙͔̖͈̠̙̹̼̱͖̰̻̠̟̌ͦͣ̾̀͊̂̏̌͗̾̓̿̿͗̊ͪ̏͜͜6͋͗͒̑͑ͥ҉͍̯̫̩͔̙͍̺̟5͊̅͋ͫ̎̌͛ͧ̀͌ͮͮ̒̑̎̆͆҉̛̛͇͈̠͉̦̪͈͖̘̟̯͈̱̫͎̝̟̘͢ ̶͐̐ͨͮ̎͒̈́͋ͣ̽̌͐̎̿͒̏̚̕͏̢̢̜͔͎͉̜̺7̷̷̛̯̠̮̺̲͇̞̻̮̗͓͙̝̟͓̹̲͗ͦͣ̒ͨ͆̾͗͜6̙̟̳̮̳̻̭̤̤̲̮ͨͤ̐͛̏ͣͯ͡ ̸̓̉͂̾҉̸̘̪̺̪̮͍͕͕͕̰̫̲ͅͅ6̴̺̜̝̳͚͙̹̲̞̯͇̯̯̃̃ͯ̌ͤ͐͝͞9ͣ̂̒͑̓̌̉͊́ͪ̈́̂̚͜҉̕͏̷̩̬͔̳̜̳͔̲͚͙̤͖̙̞̪ ̡̰̟̫̖͇̮͈̮̪̓͗̑͒̇̌͞6̴̸̸̛̜͍̟̙̘̦͖͍̗̣̘͓͓̭̫̱̬̃͋̽̐͂̅́͜ͅͅ1̸̛̥̟̣̫͙̮͚̣̩̏̌͐̊͂ͤ͞ͅ ̸̛̯̪͎̥̌͛ͬ̃6̵̐̇̄ͪ͆̀̿̌̾ͬͮͮ́ͭ͒̕͏̡̦̖̣̻͉͙̟̜̠̺̩̝̱̗͖͎̜͜ė͋̏ͩ̅̀͊ͦ̅ͤ͛͏͕̫̣̰̺͚͎͚̠̤͍̼͈̞̗̹̱͝ ̶̗͈̪͖͚̤̲̤̠̪͚̙͎ͨ̅͒ͧ͆̉̂ͦ̉͡6̢̛͍̠͖̱̺̳̹̪͉̺̗ͧ͐̐̈̒ͪ̂̉̚ͅ3̡̨̘̯͉̣ͩͮ̋̌ͣ̂̈́̀̾̄̿ͬ̈́͂ͤ̊̄͠ ̴̴̡ͧ̓͑̉̈́̂ͬͯ̄̈͂͒̓̀͛̎̀̎̋͢͏̼̮͍̰̭̼7̴̗͓̰͕̹̼̠̖̙̩̯ͥ̍͐̊ͩ͗ͫ̔̆̃̾̈́͘͟ͅ9̶̡̛̬̹̯̪͔̂ͭ͂͊̓̆ ̷͋̍̊̈͆̾͏̲̥̱̠̮̻̪̥̼3̷̵̛̦̮̻̲̮͉̦̠͖͓ͤ̓ͪ͐͗̽̎̽̔ͧ̆ͣ̾ͨͫ̾ͥ͘͜ͅą̝̠̲̻̞̻͇͌͑̐͒̇͐́̎̌ͣ̃̄̃͆̕͟ ͆̑ͮ͗ͤ̓̐̿͋̔̔̇̐͏҉̗̬̤̹̠̯̺̝̘̭̜̝ͅͅ2́ͣ̎̽ͣͪ̊̾̉ͣ͋̒ͫ͏̶̵̨͉̬͔͇̗͎̞̥̙̘̗͍͘ͅ0̢̧̪̺̫̲̯̠͈̬̯͍͔̂ͥ̐̉ͨͦ̉̈́̅̊̅ͧ̈́͒ͮͬ̓͘͝ ̷̖̪͓͕̺̟̉̔ͪͪ̀ͥ́̑́͘͜5̨̲̳̻̱͖͈̻͎͇͈̝̳͚̗͚̩͂̓ͧ̉̉ͯ͆̒ͧ̌ͦ͌̎ͧ̃̈̈́͝4̶̷͇̩̙̪̤̫̦͉̳̠̠͉͚̺͈͕ͧ̅ͣͮ͋̌̒ͣ̃̍̾̊͌̂̚͢͞ͅͅ ̷̶̠̫̠͇͎͍̙̜̑̐ͫ̑ͅ6̠̦͇̖̞̜̘͍̤͕̞̣͚̓ͯ͌̊̑͌ͧ͞8̫̫̪͈͖̱̱̹͇̖̍͐̀͐̈͆ͨ͐̓ͪͅ ͬ̅͗̉̉̔̀͗ͬ̑͏̷̢̨̩̦̞̳̦͚̳͎̖͖̮͚̺̭6̧ͦ̇͐͆̍ͯ͗͊҉͈̹̩̬̤̱̤̠̰̳̙͙̺̗̫̠͍͉̯͟5̧͙̲̳͇͖̜̹̯̬̣̺̦̻̆ͭͣͮ̈̌ͤ̅̕͜͡ ̛̂̎ͪͨ̓͏̻̝͔̩̖͕͚̬̮̩̱̜̺̥̫̫2̴̡̩̗̝̻̫̝̼͇͚̬͚ͭ̏̏̓0̾ͪ͋̿̈́ͯ͂҉̴̤͉̥͍̩͍͔͓̬ ̵̛͌͋ͤ͐ͥ͐ͪ̑͋̍̉̈́̀̍̇͒̕͞҉͇͚̮̺̬̘̦̙̼̪̜͉̼͇̲̦̥4̊̓͊̌ͯ̓̔ͦ̽̋̆͗͗͟͏̶̟̘̣̯̼̺͍̹͕̳ͅ5̘̩̮̖̻͈̥̜̐̓͐̽͛̀̾̽̀ͨ̍ͣͫ̂̇͂ͭ̌ͣ̕͟͟ ̵̺͉̥̥̯̺̹͗̌̌̋ͫ͆ͤ̂̾̕͞͡6̷̵͙͙͖̐͌̃͌ͦͮ̇͂̚̕͘͢e̷̪̳̘̣̖̳̮͍̮̘͖̊ͣ̒ͬ̌̽̽̇̄̚͞ ̸̥̼̹̪̮̭̭͕͇̥̼̘̭̝̙̜͈̈ͩ̅̆ͦ̄̚̕͜ͅ6̢ͪ̂̍ͧ̇̋̌̌̀̊͜҉̨̟̻̦͉̹̲̺̺̱̬̺͓̦̪̙͠4̴̥̟̻̟̼̭̜͕̥̦̙̜̺͍̀̿̀̋͆͆̍͋̿ͫ̃̎̈ͯͣ͆̎̚͢͞ ̺̪͍̜̹̻̻̙̣̥̥̬̫̳̥̦͒̊ͪ͐̈́͊̓͒͠͠ͅ2̷̨̖̘̟̼̬̖̘̱͓͕̠̻̝̘̬̃̐̋͐͌ͫ̇̑ͫ̇̊͛ͅ0̨͎̻̞͈̉ͥ̈́ͬͧͮ̾̍̆̏ͤͧ͝͡ ̴͛̋̋̔ͩ̇ͩ͛̏̑͜҉҉̪̬̞̲̻̠͍͕ͅ5͇̼͚͕̗͕̟̯̲̦̝͓̹̣̲̟̖͇̪͛ͣͤ̾̑͊͌̃ͯͦ͊ͣͨ̊̊̃ͪ̚͘͠͞͠0̶̢͈̖͎̻̻̻͉̜̜̳̻̦͇̥̝̃̌ͪ̽ͨ̾̍̾ͯ̃͊̏̂ͅͅ ͐̽ͣͣ҉͏̠̼̙̻̲̤̭͈̙͙̝̲̫̦7͆͂ͤ͌̇ͫ̃̚͏̦͚̜͙̫̘̜̣̻͚̺̱͓̘͟ͅ2͕̪̘͈͙̬͈͉̯̣̼͎͓͌ͣ̉̋ͪ̿̂ͯ͘͢͠ ̢̑ͧ͛̐͂̑̑̎͌ͥ̋ͧͭ̆ͪ̓ͪ͘͞͏̶͖̘̭̹̱6̇ͫͤͩ͛̿͂́̓̐̉ͦͮ͘͏̥̤̖̗̥̫̗̮̲̰͢͡f̟̞̭̞͉͖̟ͯͫ̑ͧ̿ͩ̚ ̎̏͊͂͛̈́́̌͌͋̍ͬ͒͏̵̷̮̗̮̗̲̞͚̦̮̮̭̹͈̱͘7̶̧̛͎̩͎̜̐̒̊͋͌4̖̖̲̺̪͇̦̖͍͖̖̗̈́ͭ̓ͣ́̓ͨ̋ͯͦ͘ ̊̀͆͗̿҉̴̢͍̰̘ͅ6͚̫̻͖͙͕̱̯̥̻̟̙͚͙̘̞͋̋͌ͮͬ̏ͭ̈́͂̚͘͘f̡̝̲̣̭͕͔͓ͮ̐̅̿̋̈́̋̋̚͜͜ ̦̤͇̯̻̪͓̲͙̻̙͍͙͑̓̈́ͯ͑̕͟͝͡ͅ6̴̵̦͔͔͉͙͎̞̳̥̗̫̝̉̈̍ͧͥ̿ͮͤ̃͌̕͢͞ͅ3̧͈̖̦̞̝ͧ̂͌̓ͨ̚͠ ̟͉̺̰̝͕̠̖̱̖͙̙̣͍̳̬̠̮̔̓̊̇̅͂ͩ͊͛͗ͥ͋̋ͣ̎̒̚̕͝6̧̢͇̲͓̙̙͉̺̟̥̖̟̮̋̉̏͂͜f̧̽̆͌͋ͯ́ͫ̿͐͆̄͏̵̣̪̰̮̘͇̖͙̮͉̼̹̼̗͉̪̱̜̳͢ ͓̺̠̺̜̪̌̐͊̽ͮ̍̆ͮ͋̓͘͘͝6̨̪̮̘͚̪̲̩̲̼ͧͬͫ̈̈́ͣͮ̏̎̚͟ͅc̨̺̫̲̜̗̤̠̲̞̲̰̄͑̒ͬ̍ͪ̌ͦ̽̎̏͑̚ ́̌̿̇͊̇ͦ͐ͭͧͥ̑ͬ҉̷̭̥͔̗̲̻̥̟̞̟̳̩̯̣̻̱̕͟͟2ͨ̿͐ͮ͂̊̔ͧ͗͏̷̛̳͍͔̘̞̠͙̦͔̟ȅ̸̫̲̣̪̰͍̫̻͕̜̼̣̱̐̋̊̊ͫͮ̂̽ͭ̈ͧ̇̚


End file.
